


like a comet pulled from orbit

by greekdemigod



Category: Jane the Virgin (TV)
Genre: Canon, F/F, post 3x19
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-16
Updated: 2017-05-16
Packaged: 2018-11-01 10:47:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,349
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10920270
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/greekdemigod/pseuds/greekdemigod
Summary: While Luisa is shouting, Rose already knows it’s over.





	like a comet pulled from orbit

**Author's Note:**

> Fuck Jennie Urman. Wtf was the ending of that episode?

_dear god_  
_what they didn't tell me_  
_is that lucifer fell for love_

* * *

A sense of wrongness purrs along her skin. Rose has honed instincts, forged through years of being a crime lord, and sometimes she can feel things about to go wrong like a premonition. But she can’t quite reach the stiletto knife in her shoe before someone roughly pulls her arms back and away and shiver turns into the scraping of a thousand needles all over her.

While Luisa is still shouting, Rose already knows it’s over and spends those precious moments trying to come up with a plan instead.

There are too many people for her to have taken down, even if she had a weapon—Luisa is flanked by two, there’s a bunch of mouth-breathing cops she can hear behind her, and a police siren is tearing through what had been a serene night when they arrived mere minutes ago.

She _knew_ this would happen, with a frightening clarity. But she can’t think of how she was right, of how Luisa should have listened to her, because emotions are swarming through her; a seething, boiling stew with toxic fumes she shouldn’t inhale and indulge. They’ll just make it worse.

She has no names for most of them—some she has never felt before, and others were in stages of her life when Luisa wasn’t around to shine a light on them and help her understand them, with that gentle patience of her.

But two she knows only too well. One manifests itself in her heart, a tearing pain at being separated from Luisa _again_. The other manifests as a sneer and dark glower on her face, a terrible anger that of all people, it’s _Rafael goddamn Solano_ that has finally bested her.

It costs her all her valuable time to try and shove away all that she’s feeling so that she can just _focus_ , to clear her vision from its pulsing along with her thundering heartbeat and pull it away from Luisa and instead take in her surroundings in more detail.

And then her ‘formidable opponent’ deigns to show his face, like the benevolent man he probably thinks he is, slinking in like the scurrying rat he is instead. There is a look in his eyes she has never seen before… not in his, at least. But Emilio’s…

It’s uncanny, really, that Rafael resembles Emilio in so many ways while not being his biological son at all.

There it is, her one trump card. Except, it isn’t hers to play.

Her eyes snap back to Luisa, who looks on the verge of tears, and for the first time Rose struggles against the grip the man behind her has on her wrists. A grip that is replaced by the cool bite of handcuffs before she can finesse her way out and rush to Luisa’s side, even if it was for just a moment, to let her know everything will be alright, she will fix it, she will _think_ of something, she will figure it out.

“Take her away.”

Her window has closed, her moment passed, and the distance between her and Luisa only widens. The last thing she sees before being stowed away into the backseat of a police car with tinted windows is Luisa turning a glare towards Rafael and then storming away.

It’s a small victory and her heart lifts with another thing she has no name for, no words to describe it with other than what she imagines a bird taking flight must feel like.

The fabric of the backseat is scratchy against her neck and the backs of her arms. The heat of a long Miami day is trapped inside, tickling across all her bared skin. It feels like wearing the mask all over again, but with none of its protection.

She casts one more glance at the Marbella, where the curious crowd is made to disperse by people in the blue uniform of the hotel and of local cops. Rafael is still standing there, talking to the new detective on her case after Michael Cordero died—now there’s a right shame, that he died without Rose getting to watch—and Rose closes her eyes and forces herself into an unnatural, icy calm.

Ten minutes. She probably won’t have more than that before they arrive to the police station and another window of opportunity closes. Her breath slides in through her nose, billows out her lungs, gets her blood pumping in less erratic bursts. Then she blows it out and wonders.

Could she crack the handcuffs with the thin knife in her shoe? It should fit into the lock easily enough... But then what? There’s bars between her and the front seats; the doors on either side of her are locked from the outside. She probably can’t break the glass, although it would be worth a try.

But then what? She wouldn’t be able to shimmy out of the car before cops were on her again; there’s a guard circling around the car like sharks who smelled blood... or like curious puppies would be a more appropriate reaction.

Could any of them take her? One versus seven are terrible odds, but she’s Sin Rostro—the odds have always been against her, and yet despite that, she has been succeeding for many, many years.

Well... she did go dormant. And crime lords who don’t keep up their kingdom, who loosen the hold on their control and let go of what they’ve worked for, those are practically waiting to lose. She never thought she would give up her empire like that.

She never thought she would find a reason to want to.

However, it’s why she can’t think of many people she could call in a favor from, or minions that she still has a sufficient enough chokehold on. Her right hand has taken over after her and won’t jeopardize losing it to her again; most her business partners will have moved on to someone else now, someone who can still provide all that Rose had been so good at providing.

There is a lot of money amassed in offshore accounts, though. Money can go a long way to replace power. Temporarily. She’ll have to start recurving her place in the underworld again, but she will. Once she’s escaped this pesky imprisonment deal and run Rafael through with the most painful weapon she can imagine, she will.

Or will she?

Luisa is standing behind the window of a room on the first floor, her palm pressed flat to the glass. There is a look of the purest anger Rose has ever seen on her face, but her eyes are locked onto the car, as if she senses Rose is watching.

She knows what it means. Of course she does. Luisa has flicked that open-palmed sign at her so many times over the blissful years they have spent together. When she refused to be stuck in bed while she was sick. When she wanted to help Luisa despite being told she couldn’t. When she wanted to kiss Luisa as soon as they got to the altar.

Luisa is asking her to wait.

Can she do that? _Yes_ , her heart beats the answer loudly back at her. And her mind adds, _You can do anything._

Trusting Luisa might have gotten them into this mess, and thinking of going to prison might make her feel like thousands of angry, buzzing bees are trapped beneath her skin, but she knows Luisa. Knows that Luisa loves her. Knows that Luisa has finally seen Rafael down to his truest colors and that she can’t forgive him any longer. Knows that Luisa will finally put her all onto the only person she is now certain of loves her back.

She settles back into the seat as if she’s merely being escorted by her drivers. It’s a dizzying rush to blindly trust on her wife, but she will do it.

And if worse comes to worst, well, she _has_ escaped prison before. Surely it will be like riding a bike.

Rose smiles.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!


End file.
